


The Quiet Storm

by The Big Roman (Hammocker)



Series: A World of One Color [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Drunken Flirting, Flashbacks, Flirting, Jason has a little too much, M/M, Power Dynamics, Snow, Stuffy Gangster Parties, Switching, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/The%20Big%20Roman
Summary: As snow arrives in Gotham, Roman takes Jason to a party as a bodyguard of sorts. Of course, Jason can't help a little misbehaving.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop writing this ship when I should be writing other things. Someone stop me.

Winter really crept up on Gotham that year. One day it was sunny and nice, and the next, a foot of snow on the ground. It was bitter cold and absolutely no one wanted to be outside. Even with the streets mostly shoveled and plowed, it was still miserable. More miserable than usual, anyway.

Of course, that was exactly when Roman had a party to attend outside of his headquarters, and decided that Jason was the perfect personal bodyguard and/or boytoy he could show off. Everyone in Roman’s circle of influence knew exactly who Jason belonged to, so why not just extend that to everyone else?

At least the ride was nice. It reminded him a lot of Bruce, actually; one of those smaller, less conspicuous limos. Plush seats, plenty of legroom, and, of course, a selection of drinks. Jason was nothing if not comfortable. Well, comfortable as he could be wearing a handpicked suit under his coat and no mask.

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Roman had told him. “Long as you’re with me, no one’s gonna bat an eye, trust me.”

And Jason did. Even as thoughts of “But what about when I’m not with you?” needled at his mind. He didn’t want to think about that, really.

Roman himself was wearing a fur jacket that Jason could confidently say was entirely real. Per usual, he was making something that shouldn’t have worked on him work. Thick fur like that should have made him look overstuffed and thin beneath them, something like Cruella de Vil. Yet the jacket managed to hug his form and just made him look, well, soft. Softer than he had any right to to look. Jason couldn’t help but lean over and pet the sleeve closest to him. It was just too velvety and nice not to.

“Could get you one, if you like it so much,” Roman said after a while. Still, he didn’t shoo Jason away.

Jason chose to ignore the fact that Roman had just offered to blow what must have been a couple thousand on him for a winter coat.

“Nah,” Jason said, daring to put his head against Roman’s shoulder and feel that softness against his cheek. “Think I’m warm enough without any mink skin.”

Roman turned his head towards Jason, just briefly, but, again, allowed it. “Good for you. Never liked the cold myself. Never liked heat much either.”

“Not much for feeling things?”

Roman didn’t bother to reply to that. Jason wasn’t sure if that meant he was fine or if Roman was planning to beat his ass later. Neither were bad options.

The drive wasn’t long either. On a better day, they both could have just as easily walked. Of course, Roman being Roman, Jason doubted he’d want to walk anywhere at all if he could help it.

Roman stepped out of the car first and Jason slid after him. The cold hit Jason like a truck, cutting straight through his layers and sending a shive through him. Roman, on the other hand, seemed as unperturbed as ever. Maybe a fur coat wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Be back here in two hours,” Roman ordered the driver before shoving the door shut.

As Jason adjusted his jacket, Roman was already on his way inside. He trailed after, just barely catching the door, and was about blasted with warm air in the entranceway. Jason shuddered with relief at that, even as he was wracked with uncertainty. But what was there to be worried about? All he needed to do was follow Roman’s lead and maybe smile a little. No problem.

Roman took off his coat first and handed it off a well-dressed fellow standing outside of what must have been a coatroom. Jason did the same before tailing Roman into the actual party.

The entire setting was- serene. Almost dream-like. Soft, warm colors stretched across the walls and floor, extending to the furniture and plush, rounded booths tucked off to the side. The place was some kind of lounge, full, but not too full, with gangsters of all stripes. Some Jason recognized, some not so much. He spotted some of Roman’s people here and there, some with a mask on, some without. Probably present just in case anyone thought that picking a fight with Black Mask was a great idea.

Jason felt- well, he _was_ wildly out of his element. He’d never been good at doing the whole mingle with the suits thing. So he tentatively followed behind Roman as he made his way through.

It was quiet too, shockingly quiet. Even with the relatively small crowd, Jason would have expected more than just the low hum of chatter. It was still louder than Roman’s own dining hall and party rooms when they were full, but it was strange, adding to the surreal dream-like feeling. He felt like everyone was looking at him. It wasn’t a bad sense, not necessarily, but it was uncomfortable. Jason wondered if everyone felt like that, or if it was just him. Roman seemed to get the same impression, as, every now and again, he’d covertly-but-not-too-covertly reach over and touch Jason’s thigh or even just over his ass. Sure seemed like Roman’s way of saying “back the hell off from my stuff.”

As Roman made small talk with other guests, about business deals and territory shifts and such, Jason would glance around every now and again. Jason did his best to listen. Both to them and to the peripheral conversations. 

“... put 400k on that one...”

“If I had a dollar for every time Batman…”

“... fuckin’ lizard ripped up that psycho.”

“How do you figure no one’s shot him yet?”

“Doctor Crane,” he heard Roman say among all the voices.

Jason flinched. Crane? _That_ Crane?

Sure enough, as he turned his head forward, Jason found Roman’s attention drawn by a spindly fellow in a particularly sharp suit. He had one arm curled around his back while the other held some kind of martini. His hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, showing off angular features and the many lines that had developed over them. It was definitely good old Scarecrow, and jeez, he was getting up there, wasn’t he? Seeing him out of costume was a little weird, and seeing him cozying up with rest of Gotham’s underground was even weirder. He was even uglier without the gas mask, that was for sure.

“Roman Sionis,” Crane greeted him in kind, approaching the two of them. “I suspected we might run into each other here.”

To Jason’s surprise, Roman didn’t make anything of his name being used.

“Didn’t think you were much for social gatherings,” Roman replied, so courteous that Jason wondered if he was following the wrong guy in a mask. 

“And you would be correct. I’m simply here with company.” Crane gestured vaguely behind himself. “Though, I certainly don’t mind the catering.”

“How’s progress on the formaldehyde?”

“Ah, yes. I do believe I’ve worked out just the mixture you need,” Crane said, drawing his shoulders up just so. “I expect you have my compensation prepared.”

Formaldehyde. Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Criminals and their code words. He’d have to keep that in mind.

“Of course. You think I’m a stingy man, doctor?”

“Even if you were, you’ve already expedited quite a few of my personal projects.” The passive-aggression in Crane’s voice was palpable, yet barely there all at once. It made Jason’s head hurt. “I trust nothing needs to change in our working relationship.”

“Why would it?” Roman asked. “Wouldn’t keep asking you for help if you weren’t reliable.”

That seemed to be the end of their conversation. But then Crane noticed Jason.

“And who’s your shadow tonight?” he asked, easy smile returning to his face.

Jason wasn’t sure how to answer that. Or if he should be giving out his name any more than he already had.

When Jason hesitated too long, Roman put an arm over the small of his back and prompted him, “Say hello, Jason.”

“Hi,” Jason managed. 

When silence stretched between them for more than a second. Roman wasn’t helping anymore, and it was obvious he wanted Jason to improvise. His chest tightened as panic started to set in. Panic. _Fear_.

“Uh, Doctor Crane was it?” he asked, feigning awe. “ _The_ doctor Crane?”

Immediately, Crane’s attention was fully on him, brow raising expectantly. So Jason went on.

“I really enjoyed your paper on the relationship between fear reactions and evolutionary psychology.” Jason made a point not to bring up that that was before Crane had been stripped of his titles over breaches of ethics. “Some brilliant stuff in there, enlightening even. I appreciated the detailed breakdown of chemicals the brain releases in a state of panic, and what they contribute to. Helped me understand what’s happening better.”

The longer Jason talked, the more Crane couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Either he bought it, or he wanted to buy it. Thank God.

“Oh, really, much of that was written out by colleagues,” he said, shaking his head. “I only worked on the research and crunched numbers.”

“Didn’t know you were so interested in brain chemistry, Jason,” Roman said, using that subtle sardonic tone he liked so much.

“How could anyone not be?” Crane asked, fixing Roman with an especially pointed gaze. “Count yourself lucky that you have such a bright student.”

“He’s not that bright, trust me.”

Jason sniffed at that. He really didn’t know what else he’d expected.

“Actually, I was wondering,” Jason continued, despite himself. “Would it be possible to completely eliminate fear from our emotional repertoire through chemical means?”

Crane sipped his martini in a bid to hide his smirk. “Interesting supposition, child. Given my research, I don’t believe it an impossible task, however-”

Before he could finish, some guy who knew exactly how to be loud and obnoxious broke through the quiet hum of the room.

“Jonathan, would you please come over here and explain why gold is the most reliable conductor of electricity?!”

Crane glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, even as a fond smile came over his face at the same time.

“You’ll need to excuse me,” Crane said, curbing his expression as he looked back to Roman. “I’m sure we’ll speak more later. Lovely meeting you, Jason, do feel free to contact me if you have any more questions.”

Jason had to fight the urge to recoil. Being around the creep any longer than he needed to, as if.

With that, Crane turned on his heel and strutted away from the two of them.

Roman grunted, somewhere between finality and annoyance. Jason had a funny feeling that he’d just witnessed some sort of bizarre supervillain pissing contest. He had to wonder if that was how all conversations between high-functioning psychopaths went. Roman didn’t say another word to Jason, opting to keep going on his schmoozing mission.

At least Crane hadn’t acted intimidated by Roman. About every other conversation Jason had to sit through from then on involved a lot of groveling or mutual ass kissing. Jason thought he might throw up after the fourth small time gangster came up and started sucking Roman off over some acquisition or party he’d thrown. If anyone got to suck Roman off, it was Jason.

He was going to need something to drink.

*****

Jason was starting to wish that he'd never come back from the dead. Roman had spent the last hour or so sitting down with Maroni of all people, talking about a squabble between Two-Face and Bane, and the implications thereof. Jason had no idea how they could make gang wars sound so painfully boring. His only solace throughout was the champagne that servers kept providing him. Maybe he’d had a glass or two more than he should have, but it was what it took to get through.

Roman had kept one arm firmly wrapped around Jason’s waist from the moment they’d sat down. No one so much as mentioned it, but they all could tell, even with the chatter. What they might not have been able to discern, though, was Jason’s hand petting over Roman’s thigh.

Even if they neither of them said it, the back and forth was obvious to Jason: “Can we go now?” “Not yet. Be patient.”

Problem was, Jason didn’t have a patient bone in his body. Roman didn’t pay attention to him when he sighed, checked his watch, or looked about the room, so Jason figured he’d just have to get his attention in other ways.

Now, a Manhattan would be ideal, but it was too obvious, and too sweet. The next time the waiter came over, Jason waved off the glass of champagne he had ready, and asked for a dirty martini instead.

Hey, it might be just as obvious, but at least it got Roman’s attention.

He might not have been able to see Roman’s eyes, but he could feel them. And right then, with Jason still waiting for his drink, they were practically burning through his skull. Now, whether that burning was for desire or rage, Jason would just have to find that out.

The drink arrived faster than Jason could have anticipated, and he thanked the waiter as the drink was placed in front of him.

The glass was chilled to perfection, with three olives skewered on a toothpick. Perfect.

He played it cool, having a sip of the drink before he started toying with the toothpick. Oh yeah, he definitely had Roman’s attention. He started slow, carefully sticking the very tip of his tongue to the outmost olive, running it experimentally across the smooth-skinned fruit. Then, deciding he was happy with the flavor, he rolled his tongue around it and pushed it into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks when he sucked it off the toothpick.

He thought he heard someone coughing off to the side, but he ignored it, leaning back instead. He pushed his pelvis out while doing so, having another sip of his martini. In a move too obvious even for Jason’s liking, he allowed a drop to escape his lips, run over his chin and down his neck. Jason leaned his neck back, and used the tip of his finger to catch the drop before sticking it into his mouth.

Maroni hadn’t stopped talking, but Roman’s focus was entirely on Jason now.

Jason tackled the second olive in much the same manner as the first, but when he hollowed his cheeks he looked over at Roman with a smirk.

“Really ought to be going, Sal,” Roman said at last, moving to stand up. “Come on, Jason.”

“Yeah, of course you do,” Maroni said, even as he waved Roman away. “No fun with this guy.”

“O-oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Jason blurted out as he put down the drink, and made himself get to his feet. “He can be real _fun_ when he wants to be.”

As Maroni burst out laughing, Roman turned his head sideways to give Jason what he knew was a dirty look. All he could do was smile in return.

“Come on, Jason,” Roman repeated, sharper this time, before heading for the exit.

Jason could only firmly seal his lips and follow. He was in trouble, that much was certain. The only question was how much, and he definitely wouldn’t know until much later that night.

The two of them got their coats and headed for the exit. It was snowing again. Like things couldn’t get any more perfect. As soon as they were both outside, though, Roman spoke again.

“You did good in there,” he told Jason, all the while pulling out his phone and checking it. “Playing to ego is the best catch-all strategy you got in this town.”

Jason stood stock still for a moment, gaping at Roman.

“What?” was the only thing he could think to say.

“You did good, son,” Roman repeated, slow enough that Jason knew exactly how stupid he sounded. “Don’t start fishing for compliments.

Even with that clarification, Jason still couldn’t process that information. Between the buzz and his usual expectation, it was too much. Jason had said something stupid and embarrassing in front of people. Roman was supposed to be pissed. Seeing him using a phone wasn’t helping. Jason saw that so little that he’d kind of assumed that Roman didn’t have one. It was too much.

“Idiots,” Roman mumbled, before pocketing his phone. “Well, at this rate, we’ll get back faster walking.”

As Roman started down the sidewalk, Jason felt the strangest urge to fix this little disparity. The how of the matter was the question. He walked after Roman, glancing around the street for ideas. Nothing seemed to jump out at first, but then, it hit him. Right in plain sight: the snow.

Jason leaned off to the side and grabbed a fistful of still-fluffy snow. He let Roman stay several paces ahead of him. That trust he had that Jason would follow him like an obedient dog was about to backfire on him.

Jason lunged forward and grabbed Roman by the coat. Roman froze in place, completely taken aback, and there was the opening. Throwing caution to the wind, Jason shoved the snow down into the front of Roman’s coat before pulling back.

For a second or two, Roman was stock still, and Jason could practically see him gritting his teeth against the cold. Jason was ready to laugh, but that stopped as soon as Roman turned to face him. How could a mask express exactly what Roman was feeling so easily? It was Jason's turn to freeze on the spot, unable to look away.

Roman took one step towards him, and then a crushing hand was on Jason’s neck. He gagged, but refused to look or pull away. Instead, he stared right back at Roman, meeting the dare head on.

They stared at each other like that, silently, and the rest of the world may as well have not existed. Just the two of them, burning in the cold.

After a moment, Roman glanced around, looking for anyone who might have seen what happened. Jason wasn’t immediately told to go kill anyone, so he figured that no one had. Without a word, Roman let him go, turned around, and kept on his way. Jason paused for a brief moment, but he figured that if Roman didn’t want him to follow, he would have said as much. After another pause, Jason trotted after him once more.

Jason was dead. So very dead. He couldn’t help a satisfied smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

A cry of agony ripped from Jason’s throat. His back and thighs and ass were all burning, and Roman was still wailing on him with that switch. Everything hurt and tears streamed down Jason’s face. He could barely breathe but for uneven inhales and shaky exhales. Jason couldn’t even try to squirm away with his hands bound in front of him, and his legs held spread open by a bar behind him. The metal table holding him up wasn’t any more accommodating and offered no comfort.

“You know how lucky you are that no one was around?” Roman asked.

Jason couldn’t have said if he was supposed to answer or not, but another sharp sting to his left thigh told him no. He couldn’t have anyway. All Jason could do was blubber and sob in pain.

“I’ve been giving you too much slack, haven’t I?” Roman growled.

The switch didn’t come down again right away, offering a brief reprieve that wasn’t really a reprieve. Time spent not hitting Jason was time that the marks already there stung even worse. Jason sniffed as he tried to keep completely still.

“Guess that’s my fault,” Roman continued, reaching down with his free hand to knead at Jason’s ass. “Can’t help it if you haven’t been taught your limits.”

Jason gave a pathetic whine at the touch, the fire under his skin only stoked by light touches. Even if he was allowed to talk, Jason had nothing to say. He wasn’t even sure if he could speak anymore. Even that might have been too painful. He could barely stay in his own head.

“But we’ll fix that, won’t we?”

When Jason didn’t answer, a hand came down hard on Jason’s ass.

“Won’t we?” Roman repeated.

“Yes,” Jason whimpered, voice utterly broken.

“That’s better.” Roman ran the switch gently down Jason’s back, rubbing salt and drawing out more tears. “Now, what did you do, boy?”

“I disrespected you and- and I could have hurt your reputation and- and...”

“Right,” Roman said, silencing him. “I could toss you back on the streets if I wanted, son. Not a good long-term plan to do whatever you care to do.”

Jason’s head twitched along with Roman’s words, maybe nodding or maybe shaking his head. He didn’t know. Jason wasn’t sure if he knew anything anymore. All he knew was the pain, of the switch, of-

He wasn’t laying on the table anymore. He was on cold concrete and he’d been there for hours. His hands and feet were still restrained, but he felt- smaller. Or maybe the room around him was just bigger. He couldn’t tell. What he did know was that everything still hurt, but even worse. He felt like he was dying, worse than ever before.

Maybe he wouldn’t die from his wounds, but he definitely would die. The artificial tick coming from next to him was making sure of that. Jason blinked and found himself staring at a mess of a bomb. He wished it would count down faster. His time was up anyway. Jason had failed, and now he was paying for it. All he wanted was to see Bruce one more time. He’d never been good enough for Bruce, never listened enough, never did what he was told. No, Jason hadn’t just failed: he was a failure.

Above him, someone spoke. “So what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Jason heard himself say.

A beat. “What?”

But he wasn’t in that warehouse and there wasn’t any bomb. Everything was fine. The only thing there was him and Roman. Roman.

Oh, shit. Oh, _fuck, no._

Again the switch came down on Jason’s thighs, drawing a hollow whine out of him.

“What were you saying, boy?” Roman asked, his temper flaring.

Okay, okay, they were still in it. Maybe Roman hadn’t heard or understood or something, anything to keep that secret away from him.

“I’m- I’m sorry, daddy,” he panted out, hoping that Roman couldn’t tell that his shivering was from more than just pain.

“That’s right.” Roman reached down and touched Jason’s side, on on the few spots he hadn’t struck. “I know how it is with you, Jason, no one ever gave you a short leash, the way you like it.”

Jason could only hum at the touch. It didn’t really hurt, but his body was so conditioned to the pain that he expected it to. It was almost nice, but not really.

“Now, I won’t have to repeat this lesson, will I?”

“No, sir,” Jason answered with all the conviction he could manage. 

Jason heard Roman place the switch down somewhere behind him. He couldn’t help but relax his shoulders at that; the worst was over.

“Good boy,” Roman said.

The spreader bar was taken away, allowing Jason to relax his legs. It was a small relief, but welcome. Roman was still moving around behind Jason, and it was near-impossible to say what he was doing anymore. It sounded like he was handling some small objects, but that was all Jason could say for sure. All he could do was wait.

When Roman touched Jason again, it made Jason hiss, first at the sting, then at the sudden cool. Once it set in, though, Jason let out a sigh at the sheer relief. Whatever cooling gel Roman was using, it made the fire in his skin stop burning and cleared his head in the process. Roman’s hands roamed over Jason’s back, always lingering on one spot for just long enough to be considered less-than-innocent. Jason would have begged him to linger more, but his dignity was already coming back.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jason said after a bit, more for dedication to resistance than anything else.

“If I want you back in the field within the week, then yes, I do,” Roman informed him, and Jason shouldn’t have been surprised when he felt like an idiot. “I’d be a little more grateful in your position.”

Jason snorted, but gave in anyway. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Roman said, a slight chill to his voice. “We’re not done here.”

Roman’s hands disappeared, leaving Jason to readjust to only a dull ache over his entire back side. It felt amazing, in a relative sense, like a sip of lukewarm water after being in Death Valley.

Only for the glass to be yanked away. Roman grabbed Jason around his sides without a care for Jason’s sensitive flesh. He was manhandled sideways until he wasn’t laying on the table so much as he was bent over it, feet touching the ground. Jason whined throughout the process, but didn’t bother to struggle.

He heard the telltale pop of a cap and knew exactly what was coming next. Jason winced as Roman dug his palm and fingers into the meat of Jason’s ass, and, at first, he couldn’t tell if Roman was prodding at his entrance or not. Only when Roman had two fingers sunk firmly into him could he say for sure, and even then, Jason mostly felt a numb kind of pain for it. Even when Roman found his prostate, he could barely find it in him to make it known that he felt good. His cock twitched and filled out, but Jason could only mumble his approval. Maybe that was what this was about.

Roman rushed through preparation, pulling the fingers out almost as quickly as he’d put them in. It wasn’t about Jason here, that much was obvious. He shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Jason shuddered when he felt Roman push inside of him. It wasn’t exactly painful, but weird and numb, like pins and needles inside and out. He couldn’t help the arousal he felt, but this might have been the least pleasurable sex he’d had with Roman. So he rested his cheek on the cool metal of the table and let Roman use him.

He didn’t move, laying still like prey in the arms of a predator, trying not to make Roman angrier than he already was. Instead he let the table rock beneath him, and he imagined himself on a boat somewhere. It was a strange, disjointed train of thought, like the beating had robbed him for all rational thought, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling. The halfway pleasant, and halfway unpleasant way his cock rubbed against the underside of the table didn’t fit neither the predator nor boat analogy, it didn’t matter.

Roman didn’t hurt him. He merely had his fingers dug into his hip, yanking him back for each thrust, but his fingers didn’t turn cruel like Jason had expected. It felt like a disappointed lay, like Roman was so disgruntled with him that he couldn’t even bother to make it good.

Well, good for _him_ , anyway. Despite not making a sound, Jason could tell that Roman enjoyed it, but whether it was the raw display of power, or the sex itself, Jason couldn’t say.

He didn’t really feel it when Roman climaxed. The only thing that told him it had happened was the slowing of his movements until the inevitable full stop.

Roman pulled out unceremoniously and, within a minute, he came around and cut the ropes holding Jason’s hands in place. Jason let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, but he didn’t move at first. He wasn’t sure if he even could.

Jason laid there a long while, just breathing and listening. All the while, Roman moved around him, pacing back and forth, tending to this and that. He hummed when a lukewarm cloth ran over his ass, cleaning up any remaining cum or lube. Roman probably didn’t want to have his nice sheets washed even more often. Although, Jason felt a little pride in that he could get away with messing those sheets up. 

Right as Jason was getting comfortable, Roman took him by the bicep and tugged him up.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

Even as he grumbled, Jason accepted the prompt. He stood up, but found himself leaning against Roman for support. Exhaustion had hit him all at once and now Jason could barely keep his eyes open as Roman guided him out of the room. Jason didn’t even especially care that he was still naked and letting himself be led around practically blind. Roman could have just as easily taken him into a dining hall or straight out into the snow, especially after- what Jason had given away. Jason shuddered and willed himself not to think about that. It was another card in Roman’s hand now, and Jason could only pray to God he wouldn’t play it.

At least Roman didn’t seem to be interested in playing that card just yet. Before long, Jason felt familiar carpeting beneath his feet and opened his eyes just wide enough to recognize that he was standing in front of Roman’s bed. As soon as that happened, Jason broke away from Roman to go lay down. He settled over top of the sheets, on his usual side of the bed, and curled up on his side. It took some squirming to pacify some patches of skin that were still raw, but Jason eventually found an agreeable position and relaxed.

Relaxed as much as he could anyway. Jason was tempted to assume that Roman really hadn’t heard him after all, but he knew better. Roman didn’t miss things like that. And if he could put together Jason’s relationship to Batman, he could absolutely put together who “Bruce” was.

Jason had almost forgotten Roman’s presence by the time he settled down next to Jason. He braced himself for Roman’s usual possessive embrace, but it didn’t come. All Roman did was drape one arm over Jason’s waist while making a point to not touch Jason’s back.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised that Roman wasn’t blackmailing him right away. The guy always favored long-term planning over immediate gratification, and he most likely wasn’t above holding that freely given knowledge over Jason’s head. And it wasn’t just Jason’s neck on the line at that point, it was Bruce’s, Alfred’s, Tim’s. Jason had really fucked it up this time.

Still, it was easy to trick himself into a lull with Roman’s arms around him, for once not strangling him. Even the breath ghosting down Jason’s neck was a comfort from sheer familiarity. God, if Bruce found out... Jason couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought, since he knew full well how that would end.

Jason put his hand over Roman’s, seeking some kind of comfort. He didn’t find much of that, but he could have sworn that he felt Roman’s thumb glide beneath his palm of his hand. Jason told himself that it was only Roman relaxing as he fell asleep, but some misplaced hope in him said otherwise.

For the first time since all of this happened, Jason felt truly afraid.


End file.
